


It Was Only a Kiss, It Was Only a Kiss

by little_bean



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Murder, Reconciliation, basically just my idea of what their conversation might be like when lucifer returns, chloe tries to conceal her emotions, lucifer comes back, post season 2 episode 13, post winter season finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_bean/pseuds/little_bean
Summary: After Lucifer leaves town for two weeks, Chloe tries to move on. But then he comes barreling back like nothing happened, and you know what, two can play at that game. Until Chloe can't take it anymore.





	It Was Only a Kiss, It Was Only a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just basically suffering waiting for the next episode of Lucifer. So, I wrote something that I thought might happen when Lucifer returns to LA without batting an eye. I tried to incorporate a shitty murder mystery (the one in the next episode's synopsis) but I basically ignored the entire Candy situation. 
> 
> I just wanted Chloe and Lucifer to have that last conversation at the end, but then this whole thing happened. It's mostly for me only, but if you want to read it, please, go ahead! And hopefully enjoy!!!
> 
> The title comes from the song Mr Brightside by The Killers.

The first week, Chloe must have sent hundreds of texts, and left dozens of voicemails. She never got a response, but she refused to give up. Lucifer could be stubborn as hell sometimes, but damnit all, so could she. She knew he was receiving her calls: the other line would ring a total number of seven of times, then it would click and she would hear his voice.

_“You’ve reached Lucifer Morningstar, owner of the magnificent Lux. Leave a message… if that’s what you truly desire.”_

What she truly desired? She just desperately wanted to understand. Understand why he had left without explanation, understand how he could just leave everything behind, understand what had happened to cause him to act in such a way.

Her various messages morphed from ones of concern, to ones of accusation, to self-blame. “Lucifer, is something wrong? I’m worried. Please let me know.” “Did Dan make you leave? I can’t believe you would even listen to him. That’s not like you. Call me back.” “Lucifer… did I do something wrong? I thought we were finally on the same page… I miss you, and I get if you need some space. I just wish you could let me know what I did so I can make this better. Please… I…” she couldn't finish that message, didn’t want Lucifer to hear her crying on the other end. If he listened to any of her voicemails, that is. But she had to believe he wouldn’t shut her out completely. She had to believe that he wanted to keep some connection to her.

That first week, Chloe played the events leading up to her drive to an abandoned Lux over and over in her head.

Their moment, and the stewardess. That couldn’t have provoked such behavior. That whole case afterwards, Lucifer had been trying to prove that she was “spoken for,” that they could work. Of course, it only resulted in him wallowing in self-pity, which was ridiculous. Despite what Lucifer thought, he deserved so much more credit than he gave himself. He might perform acts of evil, but he also was kind, did the right thing, and never lied.

Then, Chloe did the unimaginable. She had kissed him. She never thought she would have done that, when she first met him. He had been disgusting, everything she stood against. And yet, he had wormed his way into her heart, and she had kissed that stubbled face of his. He had looked at her in a way that he had never before: disbelief mixed with devotion.

And then he had distanced himself away from her. Why, she still wasn’t sure. Maybe her awkward flirtatious behavior had thrown him off, maybe he was stunned by her own actions. It didn’t matter, though, because by the end, he had filled her with joy when he murmured those words: “This is real, isn’t it?” Because it was real, so real. Her trust in him, her vulnerability with him, her affection towards him. He had looked just as happy as she had, and when they had parted ways, she could swear she had seen a skip to his step.

So no, in the second week, Chloe still did not understand what had happened, what she had done incorrectly.

Sitting on the couch in the common space, Chloe stared at her phone. It was late afternoon, and Trixie was snoring softly as she napped after a long day of school. She scrolled through her text screen, passed the blue bubbles, lacking their white accompaniments. Her thumbs hovered above the keys; maybe one more message might push him over the edge. Maybe one more, and he will finally respond. She’ll be able to finally read his text in his voice, a new sentence, instead of rereading older versions of conversations well-aged.

Just as she was about to begin typing, the door burst open and Hurricane Maze strutted in, cropped leather shirt and all.  
  
“‘Sup, Decker,” she called, rummaging through the kitchen. Chloe stood up quickly, tucking her phone in her back pocket.

“Maze,” she greeted the scary woman. “Would you mind keeping it down? Trix is asleep.”

Maze gave Chloe a once-over, then nodded. She proceeded to prepare herself a bowl of cereal, not bothering to continue a conversation with the detective.

Chloe couldn’t have care less. Of course Maze had been the first one she had gone to in asking about Lucifer’s whereabouts. She had responded with a shrug, explaining that she wasn’t his guardian. After asking why he might have left, Maze’s gaze had darkened, and she had claimed she had no clue.

But Chloe knew that while Lucifer had issues with lying, Maze certainly did not.

So while Chloe remained friendly with her, she had stopped going out with the women, stopped joining her for lunch breaks, and most certainly stopped asking about her upcoming bounty hunts. She had tried to limit Maze’s interactions with Trixie as well, but she couldn’t deny that Trixie had fun hanging out with hunter, and Chloe wouldn’t let her own personal feelings get in the way of Trixie’s happiness.

Giving Maze a nod of her own, Chloe decided to call it an early night, and padded to her room to change into pajamas. There was no reason to leave the house again today, and she wanted to simply curl up and watch Netflix.

As she was changing her pants, Chloe paused as her phone returned to her hand. It was still on, the pointer blinking in anticipation. Shaking her head, Chloe tossed her phone onto her bed as tears threatened to reach her eyes. She was done trying to reach out. She was done wallowing in sorrow. It was time to focus on what was actually present in her life: her work, and Beatrice.

As her phone softly landed on her pillow, it began buzzing. Chloe straightened, electricity coursing through her body. She jumped to her bed, turning her phone in her hand. Her body sagged when she saw the name flash on the screen, but she picked it up nonetheless.

“Hey Dan.” _Stupid_ , she was chastising herself.

“Chloe. A body just showed up on Fifth and Parkway. Can you come?”

She could use a distraction, and while it wasn’t a great one, Chloe guessed murder was still a way to get her mind off of Lucifer. “Sure. Be there in 15.”

“Great. See you soon.” Dan hung up, and Chloe hitched up her pants again. Grabbing her keys, she headed for the door.

“Can you watch Trix, Maze?” Chloe asked, tying up her hair. Maze crunched on her cereal, gave a thumbs up, reading the back of the box.

With that taken care of, Chloe sped to the crime scene.

Dan was talking with Ella next to the covered body when Chloe walked passed the police tape. They were close together, heads huddled, as Elle held up a piece of plastic with tweezers.

“What do we have?” Chloe announced herself after clearing her throat. Ella and Dan turned around.

“An up-and-coming guitar player was found right outside this apartment complex,” Dan informed her, gesturing to the body.

“Yeah, and get this: he was killed by getting impaled and beaten with _wood_. He has splinters all over his body, and there is a clear sign of struggle.”

“Impaled by wood?” Chloe asked.

Dan shuffled to uncover the body. Chloe breathed in when she saw evidence of the fatal blow: a stick in his neck, inches into the body.

Chloe nodded. “Any ID so far?”

Ella nodded, “Yeah, like I said, he’s a new face in the music industry, and his name is—”

“Is James Willis, or better known with his stage name Ol’ Dreamer. I’ve listened to some of his stuff, kinda boring, in my opinion.”

Chloe spun around. There was no way, it couldn’t be—

“Lucifer?” Ella gasped. Chloe’s mouth dropped. There was Lucifer, dressed like he always was in his Prada suit and white button shirt. He had gotten a haircut, so his black locks stuck closer to his head. But other than that, he looked unchanged. He even had the same five o’clock shadow.

“Of course, my dear.” He flashed his smile. “What other being could look so Devilishly handsome in the presence of a murder? No offense, Detective Douche,” Lucifer gestured to Dan, who wore the face of a man scorned.

Chloe blinked, shaking her head. “Lucifer!” she grabbed him by the arm, yanking him away from the crime scene. Once they were outside of hearing distance, she turned to him, still keeping her voice low. “What the hell? I was really, really worried about you.”

“Oh, shhh,” Lucifer cut her off with a finger wave. “We have murder to solve, let’s not dwindle on the past.” He brushed past her, and as the wind blew in her hair, Chloe was left to stand alone on the sidewalk, stunned.

Well, if he wanted to focus on the murder, then fine. But he wasn’t going to avoid her for much longer. She had not even an hour ago decided to stop thinking about him, but his presence changed everything. She could actually get a reaction out of him.

Gathering herself together, Chloe strutted back to the crime scene. Dan mouthed _what the fuck?_ to her, but she just shook her head, giving him a warning look. _Later_ , she said with her eyes, and Dan understood.

“Alright, well, let’s find an address to his house and gather all information we can on this Dreamer guy. Find out where was his last whereabouts, who he last talked to, and what he was up to. We should be able to get some leads pretty quickly if people were getting interested in his life.”

“Sure,” Dan nodded. He gave Lucifer a glare before he departed to get the work done.

“Anything else I should know, Ella?” Chloe asked the scientist.

“Not much, except I found him clutching this in his hand,” she showed Chloe the plastic piece.

“A guitar pick?” Chloe wondered.

“And why would a man being beaten to death bother to hold on to such a worthless item?” Lucifer asked, head peeking over Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe stepped away from the man. “That’s what I am going to try and find out. Ella, see if there any other prints on that. Let me know when you get anything. I’m going to go back home and check on Trixie.”

“Detective!” Lucifer ran to cut off her route back to her car. Chloe rolled her eyes, making sure to avoid looking at his face. “You’ve only just arrived! You’re can’t be already heading home.”

Taking a deep breath, Chloe finally looked at him in the eyes. “Yes I can. Dan and Ella have got this covered. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

Without another word, Chloe stepped into her car, slammed the door, and sped away.

 

***

 

Day two of the case.

Dan had found, via Instagram, that Ol’ Dreamer had a performance at The Chapel the night before he died. Chloe texted Lucifer the address, with no preamble or explanation, or even suggestion to meet up there. She half hoped he wouldn’t show up at all.

Yet when she walked up to the small venue, there he was, glaring at the building.

He must have heard her heels clicking, as he started to speak without turning around. “Why in the world would someone name a building after a place of fake worship? It makes no sense.”

“Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic,” Chloe muttered, checking out the poster plastered on the wall outside. _For the first time with an ensemble, Ol’ Dreamer tours around LA!_

“Ironic?” Lucifer questioned, quickly following Chloe as she entered the building when she found it unlocked. He had to dodge the swinging door when Chloe let is slide close after her.

“You know, at concerts typically there’s some drug exchanges, lots of drinking, smoking. So it’s kind of a middle finger to your dear old dad,” Chloe waved her hand. “I figured you would appreciate that.”

“Hmm.” Without even looking, Chloe knew that Lucifer was straightening his posture as he became happier thinking about what she was suggestion. “I guess you're right, detective!”

Chloe murmured some sort of non-committal noise as she looked around the venue. It was pretty small, but enough to fill at least three hundred people. The stage was still set up for a full four-set band, drums looking abandoned as empty microphone stands longed for a partner. “Hello? Anyone here? LAPD!”

“Huh?” Someone stumbled from backstage, tripping over wires. Curly brown hair scraggling everywhere, the man hiccuped as he took in Chloe and Lucifer. “What’dya want? Am I in trouble? I swear, it was all James’ fault!”

Chloe walked slowly towards the lifted stage. “And why would you say that?”

The man rubbed his head. “Well, James always blames me for all the crap he gets into. You know, being too high to play a set, or getting into a fight with some of the band members.”

Chloe pulled out her notepad, flipping it to a clean page. “So, he got into fights often?”

 

About half an hour later, Chloe had finished interrogating the roadie (Kevin was apparently his name). He had spilled a lot on the recently deceased; with anger issues, James Willis routinely got more upset when he was high or the manager wanted to add or remove songs from a set.

Most recently, James had gotten in a feud with the drum player, Patricia Allen. Kevin claimed to have seen them pointing fingers at each other before they took the stage, and Patricia had even slapped him in the face.

“You think this is a case of a lover’s quarrel?” Lucifer asked Chloe as they walked up the stone steps to Patricia’s house.

“I don’t have enough recent experience with one to know,” Chloe angrily retorted. She knocked hard on the front door, which swung open to reveal an older woman carrying a mixing bowl on her hip.

“May I help you?”

“Yes.” Chloe flashed her badge. “We are looking for Patricia Allen. Does she live here?”

“My daughter?” The woman resumed mixing the dough. “She’s in her room. Is there something wrong?...”

Chloe stepped passed the mother, not waiting for an invitation. She could here Lucifer murmur something to the woman behind her.

“Patricia? This is LAPD. We need to ask you a few questions.”

A redhead turned the corner, arm wrapped in a sling, stopping Chloe in her tracks. “Is something wrong?”

“You tell me,” Chloe said, crossing her arms. “When was the last time you saw James Willis?”

“James?” She scoffed. “Not since our concert. He’s too caught up with his fame. I called him after I was pushed down the stairs two nights ago, to which he responded “well, guess we got to find a new bass player.” He never cared how I really felt.”

Chloe didn’t mention how much she sympathized with the woman’s final sentence. “You were pushed down the stairs? When was this?”

“Yeah.” Patricia stepped into full few, to reveal her arm in a sling. “After we played our set, some fan ran passed me to try and reach James. I broke my clavicle, and now I won’t be able to play for weeks. Sucks ass.”

“I’m sorry for your arm. But so you know, James was found dead yesterday evening. You didn’t know?”

Patricia stared at Chloe, eyes widening. “James? _Dead_?”

“As a doornail!” Lucifer announced himself, nibbling on some pastry dough. “So, if you could tell us who you think might have wanted the poor chap dead, please, take your time.”

Patricia shook her head, hugging her body. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone in particular…a lot of people were put off by him, but I don’t think to that degree. Wait, was I a suspect?”

Lucifer scoffed. “Of course, darling. Why else would we be here?”

“Lucifer!” Chloe slapped his arm. “Yes, you were, but you clearly couldn’t have with your broken collar bone.”

“Ah.” Patricia shuffled her feet. “Do you mind… how exactly did he die?”

“The bloke got some wood in his throat!” Lucifer happily supplied, chuckling. Chloe glared at him.

“I’m sorry for my… for the civilian consultant. He was beaten and stabbed with a wooden stick.” Chloe got out her phone and showed her the weapon.

Patricia gasped. “Those are Rohema drumsticks!”

“Excuse me?”

“Those pieces of wood: you see the black lettering there? Those are clearly Rohema German drumsticks. Pretty high quality stuff.”

“So why would someone use such an item to kill?” Lucifer asked, perplexed.

“People tend to do things that others can’t explain,” Chloe deadpanned. Her and Lucifer maintained eye contact a moment too long, and she turned back to Patricia, clearing her throat. She had an idea. “Patricia, did you happen to notice anything on the fan that pushed you down the stairs? Was he holding something?”

The woman shook her head. “No, I don’t think—wait, in his back pocket. I saw them mid-fall. Oh my god, he had Rohema drumsticks too. Oh my god, I could have been murdered. Oh my god!”

“ _Please_ , stop calling Him out,” Lucifer grimaced.

Chloe put a hand on Patricia’s shoulder. “Calm down. You were never the target. There’s nothing to worry about. Just go bake with your mother. But first, can you give us a description of the fan?”

Patricia nodded.

 

 

Unfortunately, they didn’t have what they really needed. A name. Back at the precinct, Chloe tapped her pencil repeatedly on her desk. Lucifer was chatting with Ella, enthusiastically catching up with her. Why her? Chloe was trying not to think about it, but every time Lucifer looked at her, her chest contracted. He looked at her like nothing had change, like he hadn’t just barreled her life over and then fled. Was she going insane? Had they not had, dare she say it, a moment two weeks ago in the hospital? They were going to talk, and now they couldn’t get passed a few unamiable words.

Had she lost Lucifer as not only her, whatever he was, but as a friend? Was he back to being a pesky consultant? Had he decided he didn’t actually wish to pursue a relationship with her, and to clear his head, or restart his heart he left?

Chloe sighed, dropping her head onto her desk. This was too much to deal with.

A hand brushed her back, and Chloe looked up to see Dan. She smiled softly at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He took the empty chair that Lucifer used to sit in, drawing close to Chloe. “So, has he said anything?”

Swallowing her sorrow, Chloe shook her head. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Dick,” Dan cursed him. “I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m really not.”

Chloe looked down. “I am. Is it stupid that I am? I had really thought he had changed.”

“Chloe.” She looked up. Dan had leaned in closer. “You are not stupid. I don’t know what has gotten into Lucifer, but when you were in that hospital bed… it tore him apart, seeing you like that. I don’t know what he did to save you, but whatever it was, it was major. He wouldn’t give me the details, but he went above and beyond what the old Lucifer, and I mean the Lucifer we first met, would have done. Believe me.”

Chloe placed her hand over Dan’s. “I do believe you,” she whispered. “So what changed?”

Dan looked helplessly into her eyes, and she knew he was looking for and answer as much as she was.

Chloe took Dan’s comfort, appreciating his words. It confirmed that she at least wasn’t crazy, that Lucifer actually _had_ changed as they had worked together.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man himself appear next to her desk.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lucifer asked, leaning forward. Did he have the audacity to have a tone of _jealousy_ in his voice? Or was that Chloe’s imagination?

“What do you want, Lucifer?” Dan asked, lacing his voice in slight resentment.

“Well, I was having a chat with Ella, and it occurred to me that someone must have recorded the concert on their phone.”

“Your point?” Chloe asked, starting to gather her supplies.

“Maybe the same someone uploaded it to YouTube or another social platform. I try to keep up with new technology, but it’s very difficult,” Lucifer lamented.

“What would the odds be that our killer is on one of those videos?” Dan asked, skeptical. “I mean, there were hundreds of people at that concert.”

“Well, as Ella pointed out, if this guy was really trying to get to our James, he would have tried to be at the front. And who has the  best view to take videos of concerts?”

Chloe was nodding. “Audience members at the front as well.” She typed at her computer quickly, searching for videos on the date and at the venue James had played out. A minute later, she put a video on fullscreen, and pointed at a man arguing with a security officer. He matched Patricia’s description, and Chloe could even make out sticks poking out of his back pocket. “That’s our man.” She paused when he turned around, and she zoomed in. “Maybe if I…” Chloe took a screenshot, then ran the photo in through facial recognition. A name popped up, as well as an address.

“Joseph Willis?” Dan read.

“He must be related to James,” Lucifer stated the obvious.

Chloe was nodding. She stood up, and clapped Lucifer on the shoulder. “This was great. Tell Ella thanks for me. I am heading to the address.” And she sped off.

“Ella? Why Ella? It was my idea. Detective!” Lucifer called out after her, but she didn’t care.

She had a murderer to apprehend.

 

***

 

“Joseph? Joseph Willis? This is the LAPD! Open up!” Chloe banged on the apartment door. It was run down, paint peeling, stacks of yellow books building up on the sides.

Putting her ear to the door, Chloe could hear someone whimpering on the other side. Without a second thought, she kicked down the door.

On the other side, a skinny man was curled up on the floor, sobbing in front of a guitar. He looked up, eyes red-rimmed. Joseph Willis.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I admit it. It was me! I knew it was only a matter of time you figured it out. But I just couldn’t… I needed time to remember him. I still can’t believe it!” He broke out in sobs. “But jail isn’t enough.” He revealed a gun, holding it up to his head. “I can’t live like this. I need to end it.”

Chloe stepped forward. “Joseph, _no_. That won’t solve anything. Please, put the gun down.”

“And how will jail help me at all?” Joseph wailed. “I have nothing now. No parents, no brother. Not even that blasted guitar pick my brother always revered.”

 _Keep him talking,_ Chloe thought. “Guitar pick? You mean the one we found at the scene?”

Joseph nodded. “Our father gave us that pick, told us it would make us a great musicians. That’s all he ever wanted, before he fell ill. To see us pursue our dreams.” Joseph’s hand shook.

“That’s more than I can say my father wished for me.” Lucifer strutted next to Chloe, fixing his blazer, breathing a little heavy. He must have ran up the stairs.

Chloe glared at him. “Let me handle this,” she shout-whispered to Lucifer.

“Well, then I’m sorry for you, man,” Joseph spat. “But that isn’t my issue. So let me—”

“Wait,” Lucifer walked up to Joseph. Joseph scrambled up.

“Stay back, or I swear to God that I will blow my brains out! Just let me be!”

Lucifer splayed his hands in front of him. “Do whatever you want, Joey. But god doesn't really care about matters like this. I just want to ask you one question.” He leaned forward, staring Joseph directly in the eye. “Is this was you truly desire? To die like this, in your crappy home?”

Joseph’s lip wobbled. Chloe could see him trying to fight Lucifer’s pull, but it was no use.

“No! I want to become a famous drummer. That’s what I had wanted, at least,” Joseph admitted, spitting at the ground. “But my brother had to steal the pick all for himself, claiming only one of us could fulfill dad’s dreams.”

Chloe slowly took a step towards Joseph. “Is that why you?...”

Joseph shook his head, swinging the gun around. “No! But when he finally started playing with a full band, I asked for him to let me play with him. So we could be a family again. But he said no. Refused me. I was so mad. So I waited for him to go to his favorite coffee shop on Parkway, and confronted him. I demanded the pick back, at least, because he had made his big break. He didn’t need it anymore. I should have expected the answer he gave me.”

“And what was that?” Lucifer asked, looking genuinely curious.

Joseph frowned. “That I could shove one of my drumsticks up my ass.” He shut his eyes. “Then he waved the pick in front of my face. That was it. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I lashed out. And the next thing I knew, he was on the ground, clutching his neck.” Joseph put the gun to his head again. “I killed my own brother. Do you know what that feels like?”

Lucifer stared at Joseph, finally lost for words.

“No, Joseph, I don’t,” Chloe said softly. “But we can find people who will help you through this. We _can_ help you, if you let us.”

Joseph shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “How? I know I’m going to jail. I know the law.”

“True, but you might be able to get out if you cooperate. You can get help, and start a new life. It’s what your father would have wanted,” Chloe tried. She believed it herself.

Lucifer stayed paralyzed to his spot, lost in his own mind. Chloe tried to focus on Joseph. She held out her hand.

“Please, Joseph. Everything will be alright in the end. You just need to persevere.”

Joseph whimpered, finger twitching on the trigger. With a large breath, he placed the gun in Chloe’s hand. She quickly shoved it down her pants behind her, and got her cuffs out. Joseph complied, crying silently as she arrested him.

Lucifer was looking up at the ceiling, lips moving breathlessly. Was he praying? Chloe tugged on his arm, and he stepped out of his stupor. “C’mon, let’s go.” Lucifer swallowed hard, then nodded. Together, they headed back to the precinct.

 

***

 

Chloe was back at home, cleaning up after dinner with Trixie, who had went to sleep after stuffing her small mouth with as much cheesy pasta as possible. Just as she placed the final dish on the drying rack, Chloe heard a _thud_. The front door shuddered.

“ _Bloody hell,_ ” someone muttered from the other side.

Chloe rushed to the door, opening it. “Lucifer?” She went outside, closing the door behind her.

Lucifer was rubbing his nose. “Since when did you start locking your door, Detective?” he asked, looking personally offended.

Chloe folded her arms. “Since I stopped expecting someone to barge in,” she responded, dry.

Lucifer paused rubbing his nose, then sighed. “Very well. Anyhoo, I brought a bottle of wine.” He grinned. “Figured we could toast to a murder well-solved!”

Chloe sighed. “Lucifer, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Chloe clenched her jaw. “Stop that. You know why. You know what you did. You may be able to pretend it didn’t happen, but I can’t anymore. I won’t let you toy with my emotions like this anymore.”

“Detective—”

“No, Lucifer. I’m done. We are either having this conversation now, or you can go.”

Lucifer dropped the hand that was holding the wine. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“You sincerely want the whole story?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He sighed. “Well, detective, the truth is we were forced together.”

Chloe didn’t understand.

Lucifer shifted his weight. “My dad is the reason you’re alive, that you exist at all, Chloe.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Well, if your dad really is God, then he’s the reason everyone exists, Lucifer.”

“No!” He brushed his hand through his hair. “You weren’t _supposed_ to exist, Chloe. You, my detective, you were a bloody miracle. He made you, put you in my path. All of this, He made up. None of it happened on its own. It was all Him.”

Chloe stepped back. “Lucifer, you stretch your delusional identity far sometimes, but this is too ridiculous. If you can’t tell me why you left, then just leave again.” She turned to go back inside.

Lucifer grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn around. He was angry now; she knew not at herself, but at something greater, larger, than both of them. “Chloe, don’t you get what I’m saying? None of it —us meeting, working together— _none_ of it was real!”

It was like someone punched her in the gut. This was worse than when she realized she had been poisoned; that was a dreading fear which had crawled up her limbs to take a hold of her lungs, then her heart, slowly. It had taken her prisoner, made her stuck in her own body, unable to escape the sense of captivity and looming death.

But this, it was as if someone had shoved their hand inside her chest and ripped out her heart. It was painful, eternally painful. She felt empty, lied to, betrayed.

She clenched her hands to force herself to stop shaking.

“Not real?” She gnarled.

Lucifer nodded. “It was all my Father. He forced us together, forced our emotions. It was all manufactured by Him.”

Chloe pulled her shoulder from Lucifer’s grasp, then made her stand up as tall as she could. “How could you say that,” she growled, glaring up at Lucifer. “After all we have been through, all the _shit_ we have had to deal with… you are really giving your 'dad' all of the credit?” She used air quotes. “I don’t understand why you keep up with the whole dad being god, but I’ll play with it.” She shoved her hand in Lucifer’s chest. “You want to believe that he orchestrated all of this? Okay. Then so be it. Maybe he did put me in your path. But would that be a bad thing? Did you even ever consider that might have been where his intervention ended? That he left the rest up to us? Let _us_ choose to work together, to be partners, to be friends?” Lucifer was backtracking, amazed by this wrathful side of the detective. Fearful, but amazed. There was fire in her eyes, true hurt. “I don’t know how you feel, Lucifer, but I know what I felt. I felt disgust at first for you. But _you_ , not some _god_ , showed me who you really were, showed me a side that I came to care for.”

She stopped approaching them, taking a centering breath. “You know what, maybe you were partially right. I didn’t choose to care for you.”

Lucifer’s shoulders fell. “You didn’t?” he asked, voice cracking.

Chloe shook her head. “No. I didn’t. Because that’s not how it works. We have some control, but not complete control in who we come to care about. I didn’t choose to love Dan, but I did.”

“What do you mean?” Lucifer asked, clearly not following.

“Do you know nothing about emotions, Lucifer? They come and go when they want. And mine chose you. They made me choose you. But you know what?”

Lucifer mouthed a response, but couldn’t force himself to say anything.

“ _I_ chose to act on those emotions. _I_ chose to embrace them.” She looked at his deep eyes, ones that reflected years of pain that he so tried to hide. But ones that also had looked at her with devotion and affection. “ _I_ chose to love you. By my own free will, not some god telling me to do so. I actively opened up to you.”

“But those feelings you talked about, Detective… they were all artificial,” Lucifer said again, without as much resolve as before.

“Don’t. You. _Dare_ ,” Chloe grinded out, “tell me that my feelings are fake. Because let me tell you something, Lucifer.” She stared at him for what she knew would be the last time that evening. “There is no way in Hell that the pain I am feeling right now isn’t real.” Lucifer broke her eye contact to trace the wet streaks on her cheeks from where her tears fell. He reached towards her, trying to wipe them from her face.

Chloe stopped his hand. “Don’t.”

She turned around, leaving a stunned Lucifer in her front yard, and closed the door behind her. She clutched her stomach, convulsing in sobs.

 _Everything will be alright_ , she tried to tell herself. _You just need to persevere._

But all she really needed was a certain someone’s arms to hold her, to whisper soft comfort in her ear, to make her feel better.

That same someone walked away from her house as she closed her eyes, pushing tears out.

Her phone buzzed. Chloe lazily tossed it from her back pocket onto the floor. The screen flashed, blurry through her tears.

 _Chloe, I am so sorry_.

In gasps, Chloe grasped her phone close to her torso. Maybe later, it would be alright. But right now, she just needed more time.

**Author's Note:**

> this honestly made me sad writing it, but I think it's realistic. but ofc I know deckerstar will get through this, as they always do <3
> 
> Also, I apologize for Maze. I really have no idea how she will be in the upcoming episode, so I tried to be as neutral as possible here.


End file.
